Chapter Fourteen #2
A heated spark burst in Atticus’s eyes. “You can’t beat me, Miller,” he said with all the confidence of a seasoned competitor and an Olympic gold medalist. Even though Atticus was our age, he’d joined the five-star ranks much earlier than me and Sage.
He really was amazing. Only one rider had ever kept him in second place, and that man was now hidden away in a private box, far removed from the competitive circuit.
“We’ll see about that,” Sage sang as she clipped her chin strap closed. Dressed in the same outfit as me, but for her jacket being burgundy, Sage looked more stunning than ever. A fact Atticus hadn’t missed, if the slow rove of his eyes over my best friend was any indication.
“Then how about a wager?” Atticus said. He shrugged. “Just between us teammates, of course.”
Sage went to snap back at Atticus but caught my eye.
I shook my head. These two would be the death of me.
Sage breathed slowly through her nose, then simply shook her head.
She then turned toward Horatio, who was walking out of the stall with Fefe.
She hadn’t made it four steps before she reluctantly turned around and questioned, “What stakes?”
I sighed. Truce, my ass. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist his offer. Sage was the most competitive person I knew.
Mila brought the mounting block beside Huxley.
I moved in front of my horse and looked him dead in the eye.
“Well, milord,” I said, a fun little ritual I’d developed with the stallion.
His ears flicked back and forward as he listened to me talk.
“You and I have quite the task to achieve today.” I ran my hand over his nose, then his cheek, and dropped a kiss over his white blaze.
“We’ll start off steady,” I said. “Being our first course, our biggest goal is a clear.” I smiled in excitement.
“We may be against the clock, but we’re gonna have a smooth start, okay, beautiful boy?
Today is about getting used to this new arena.
We can pick up speed the more the tour progresses. Slow and steady wins the race.”
I kissed him again, then moved to my mounting block only to hear, “I think not, fucker!” I climbed on Huxley and looked to Sage, who was storming away from Atticus, who was laughing as he put on his hat.
Chris, his groom, had Lord Barnaby ready at his side.
Atticus was in all white too, but for his jet-black jacket and boots. I had to say, as a team we looked good.
“What did I miss?” I asked Mila, as I bent down and tightened my girth.
“Atticus’s first offer to Sage was a kiss, with tongue,” Mila said, fighting a chuckle. “When Sage refused that, he offered that whoever won out of the two of them, when interviewed after the ride, had to say how much they admired the other, and just how good of a rider they were.”
“Ouch,” I said, grimacing. If Sage had to wax lyrical about Atticus, I feared she would throw up in the process.
“You just know you’re going to lose, Miller!” Atticus shouted to Sage and jumped on Barnaby, no mounting block needed. He looked like a beautiful demonic soldier on his pitch-black horse with his long black hair and dark Knighton eyes.
Sage rage-tightened her chin strap, then as she clicked to steer Fefe out of the stalls and toward the practice ring, she passed by Atticus and said, “Fine, you’re on. Prepare to kiss my ass!”
“Is that a real offer? Because your wish will be my command,” he shouted back, and Sage flicked her middle finger at him as she walked away.
I halted Huxley next to Atticus and said, “You’re playing with fire with Sage.” I smirked at Atticus, who shrugged.
“Hals, fucking with her has quite literally become my favorite thing to do in life.” He threw me his panty-melting smile, the one that had girls swooning in the stands.
It didn’t work on me, of course. I apparently liked my Knightons less friendly and more dictatorial.
Atticus was too approachable and amiable. I preferred aloof and tortured.
Atticus’s eyes closed, then he bit his bottom lip and groaned. “And we have all tour together, Hals. All. Bloody. Tour. Mmpf.” He shook his head and opened his eyes. “What a year we’re going to have.”
I laughed, shaking my head, and we walked from the stalls side by side.
Just as we hit the warm-up ring, Atticus must have seen a glimmer of nerves on my face, as he said, “You’ve got this, you know?
” I looked at him, and all his teasing humor had faded; only confidence was in his expression.
He nodded his head at Sage, who was walking Fefe on a loose rein, warming her up. “You both do.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot, coming from you.” I leaned closer. “But let’s not tell Sage you think she’ll kick ass. It’ll only make her see you as weak.” Atticus winked at me, and Leon came to stand at my side.
Our trainer’s game face was on. “Tough course,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
He patted Huxley’s neck. “Slow and steady. You know the drill. You can do it,” he said, and opened the gate to the practice ring.
Two jumps were in the center, each approaching the maximum height we’d see on the course.
I nodded in greeting at the other riders warming up.
A large screen on the wall displayed the action in the main arena.
The commentators were talking, then the camera zoomed in on a familiar face in a private box—Jasper, standing next to Abdul Hashim.
Jasper looked beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.
I really was pathetic for this man.
I barely heard what the commentators were saying about him, but when footage from this event two years ago here in Doha came up, Jasper winning the jump-off on Henry, I couldn’t help but watch in awe.
Like flying . . .
When it cut back to Jasper, he was laughing at something Abdul said.
The camera caught him in a rare moment of lightness, and he was stunning.
Then the view moved from Jasper to the main arena, where none other than Jake McGowen trotted into the ring on his sixteen-three-hand mare.
The order of jumpers was picked at random.
One thing was for sure: Jake, as much as his reputation was battered, was a hell of a rider and would no doubt set the tone for the rest of the class.
I drew my attention from the screen and focused on warming Huxley up enough that I could begin to jump the practice fences.
A hush from the arena descended, and when I looked at the screen, Jake was just clearing the last fence.
The audience lifted in applause and Jake leaned down to pat his mare’s neck.
He’d jumped a clear and his smile was wide.
Atticus trotted up beside me and said, “His time is beatable. Head down and git ’er done.
” I raised my eyebrow at Atticus, fighting a laugh.
“What?” he said, all innocence. “That’s what you Texans say, right? ”
“Something like that,” I said, and pushed Huxley into a canter. I was riding fourteenth out of fifteenth. Sage was tenth, and Atticus was last. So I got my head down and made sure Huxley was warm and supple. I kept my breaths steady and listened to every instruction Leon gave me.
When the ninth jumper left the practice ring, Sage walked up to me on her way out of the gate. I put my hand on her arm. “Ride strong, babe,” I said, a little mantra we had started as teens. We’d never not said it to one another before a competition.
“You know it,” Sage said, and as I watched her go, I had to blink away moisture from my eyes. Sage and I had been through everything together. To see her walking into the arena on Fefe, Leon giving last-minute instructions as he walked beside them . . . I was so happy for her I could burst.
A collective, “Ooo . . .” suddenly came from the arena. As I looked up, Tristan Meyer from Austria had just knocked down poles on the double, both jumps—eight faults. When his horse, Blueberry Note, refused the next fence, he waved his hand, retiring them both from the course.
This was Blueberry’s first time in a five-star Grand Prix, and clearly the uberchallenging course and packed audience had her spooked.
She was only eight. I patted Huxley’s neck and kissed his soft and perfectly groomed mane.
“Just keep focused, milord. Ignore the crowd, just listen to me.” Huxley liked me talking to him around the course.
If I was ever too quiet in practice, I noticed a dip in his attention, and that’s when he would make mistakes.
I would make sure my voice was loud enough to keep him focused.
A round of applause sounded, and I stopped Huxley to watch the big screen.
Sage trotted Fefe out into the arena. I smiled in pride.
She looked incredible, so confident. Atticus halted Barnaby beside me, eyes glued to my best friend.
The announcer read out her name and Fefe’s, and I felt chills break out all over my body.
She was doing it.
We both were.
The horn sounded, and Sage began the course.
My body was tense as I watched her clear the first several jumps.
Fefe was spritely, nostrils flaring, wanting to storm the course like the crazy mare she was, but Sage kept her steady.
I heard the creaking of leather and looked to my right to see Atticus’s hands tightening on his reins.
I fought a smirk. He could pretend he wanted to beat her all he wanted, but the way his midnight eyes were glued to the screen, he wanted Sage to soar.